Four years ago: I was new in town and looking for friends. I was in a long-distance relationship with my best friend. I had lost 20 lbs due to extreme anxiety, in less than a month. I worked three restaurant

My parents divorced when I was probably about 6 years old, and my brother, Bryan, and I were stuck with my mother. I would learn several years later in life that our father did try to get custody multiple times,

Online catfish. Online predator. He catfished me under many names, accounts, numbers, etc until I finally confronted him and attempted to report him. My karma is I shouldn’t have been there. His karma is exposure. I’ve managed to spread my

Please answer the phone. Please answer the phone. Please answer the fucking phone. Dead tone. Beep beep beep. Those beeps became such a feeble connection to the regular world, such wholesome little beeps, like the excitement of watching a truck

You have to connect to the ground, and open your heart, to create space, and stand in integrity, to speak your truth. This is a story about healing….my ongoing journey to heal from what was an unspeakable trauma. My hope

My name is Wilson Shantae and I am a Sex Trafficking Survivor. My journey started at the age of 14. My mother was addicted to heroin and sold me to the neighborhood drug dealer, who at that time was my

I have never written anything about my personal life before, but I’m going to tell you my story that needs to be shared. When I was 7 years old, I was molested by my step-grandfather who we will call “LS”.

"There are other things we can do besides sex" he said. But that's where he was wrong. When I said no sex, I meant I didn't want to be sexual with him. In any way. I wanted to innocently flirt, hold hands, and cuddle on his couch. He saw it as a line crossed when his penis entered my vagina. I saw it as a continuum. It's not, Everything But. It's encompassing all sexual acts. The pressuring to feel my breasts, to take off my pants, those all fall under the continuum of "Sexual." I didn't want any of it.

In the light of morning, with a pounding head and dry mouth, I woke to find a hand touching me. I rolled over to find a man who was only vaguely familiar, but definitely not someone I knew. I didn’t even know his first name, let alone his last.

I would tell her I am not well or now is not the right time. She would ignore my plea and play with my penis. I would many times tell her to stop but she would then come on top of me. I would tell her to get off and to keep me quiet she would cover my mouth with her hand to keep me from talking.

Once he told me, I told him we needed to talk about our options in the event that I fell pregnant. The day he came over, he told me he’d kick me down the stairs if he had to. I told him to get the fuck out.

The female cop got out of the car to talk to my friend, and I went inside the car to talk to the male cop, I remember not being able to explain my self properly, all I knew is that something was wrong , something bad has happend to me, hyperventilating I tried to explain the time line of events,

I tried collecting myself to text a friend to let them know where I was and what had happened, but I couldn't focus or coordinate myself. I have no idea how long I was in the washroom for. It couldn't have been for long, but what I can remember about that part of the night is that two people escorted me out the club through the back door away from my friends.

It’s taken me a long time to even see my rape clearly. But I’m starting to share my story, because secrets lose their power when they’re out in the open. But I was raped and assaulted. And I was stalked.

A few days ago I was watching this video where Cara Delevingne spoke about depression and she read out this beautiful poem she wrote and it really resonated with me. I have been reading a lot of articles on anxiety,

I said no, I meant no, and I gave all the non-verbal cues. I was uncomfortable, stiff, unmoving, and not kissing him back. And suddenly he was inside me. I pushed him out with my legs and again said I was really sore. He told me that was hot and shoved his penis inside me. I gave up. I tensed up and endured the pain and tried to lay back and wait until it was over.

If someone trusts you enough to disclose something so private and painful, believe them. Support them, listen to them. No matter who is telling you their story, their truth, listen. Us survivors, brave, resilient, fucking warriors- we just want to be empowered so we can move forward and heal. We just want our truth to finally be heard.

The next day, you feel hollow and empty but you go to work and come home. You pass him in the hall back to your dorm room. He’s with a bunch of his buddies and smirks at you, laughing with his buddies because they all know. You hear that he’s started to tell people that you’re a slut and is saying terrible things about your body.

I finally caught him in the act, and the DA said "Rape either has to be by force or while unconscious, so if you were "fake sleeping", you weren't unconscious. And if you really were unconscious, how do you know you were being raped?She didn't care about the hours that he raped me while I was unconscious. She was focused on the few minutes that I kept my eyes closed and didn't want him to know I was awake.

A few days later he told me he will leave pics around the neighberhood for other kids to see. I begged him not to and was scared at the thought of others seeing me doing that. I said I’ll do anything to not show those pics, he replied hmmm let me think! He said if I did the same thing everyday before work for him he could refrain from showing them.

The When You're Ready Project is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories and have their voices heard, finding strength in one another. When you're ready to share your story, we will be here.